Scan barcode
A review by shanviolinlove
I'll Sell You a Dog by Rosalind Harvey, Juan Pablo Villalobos
4.0
Playful and witty. I love a good cast of characters, from mischievous Teo to revolutionary Juliet, the bumbling Willem and the anarchist Mao, plus the coterie of literary salon minions who live like creatures of the Underworld, bent over their reading lights.
The premise is hysterical, with zany plot twists reminiscent of a Coen brothers film. It also calls into question the system of valuing life, both as Teo wrestles with the ennui of retirement-home community living and the futility of posterity in the art (or art-decadent) world. Characters confront philosophical, political, and aesthetic pursuits, as the ground is literally opening up beneath them, unearthing pagan gods; and as Cuban ballads drive allegedly CIA-constructed cockroaches out of Teo's apartment. Meanwhile, what makes failed artist Teo renowned in his area, apart from his avid love and literacy in the art world, is his taco dog meat recipe, which, he discovers post-retirement, is now a taboo practice.
Villalobos strikes a good balance between over-the-top events that are still believable enough to be coherent. Right up until the ending, which I felt was a bit of a creative let-down for a novel otherwise charged with originality. This is a novel whose main character is accused of writing a novel (despite his many protests to the contrary), but it does draw attention once again to the decadence art-lovers attach to art. Teo is first mistaken for a professional artist when he is seen carrying his father's easel and painting; when it is revealed that he was, instead, a taco seller, he is villified by the literary salon's champion Francesca, who later warms up to him due to the belief that he is writing a novel, and against his will attempts to coach him based on her own background in literary criticism. In fact, literature and art appear often in the novel, but it is the ideas about them that proliferate through Villalobos' narrative, and even still in irreverent ways (Teo pounding cockroaches with his copy of Adorno's Aesthetic Theory, passages from which he also uses to befuddle telemarketers and Latter-Day Saint missionaries; Proust's In Search of Lost Time stamped with footprints and used for attempted dog-napping heists). This is a book that invites the reader to engage in the idea of the arts on whatever grounds, silly or serious, as the tongue-in-cheek tone allows both. Engaging and easily paced, this novel was a fun romp to read.
The premise is hysterical, with zany plot twists reminiscent of a Coen brothers film. It also calls into question the system of valuing life, both as Teo wrestles with the ennui of retirement-home community living and the futility of posterity in the art (or art-decadent) world. Characters confront philosophical, political, and aesthetic pursuits, as the ground is literally opening up beneath them, unearthing pagan gods; and as Cuban ballads drive allegedly CIA-constructed cockroaches out of Teo's apartment. Meanwhile, what makes failed artist Teo renowned in his area, apart from his avid love and literacy in the art world, is his taco dog meat recipe, which, he discovers post-retirement, is now a taboo practice.
Villalobos strikes a good balance between over-the-top events that are still believable enough to be coherent. Right up until the ending, which I felt was a bit of a creative let-down for a novel otherwise charged with originality. This is a novel whose main character is accused of writing a novel (despite his many protests to the contrary), but it does draw attention once again to the decadence art-lovers attach to art. Teo is first mistaken for a professional artist when he is seen carrying his father's easel and painting; when it is revealed that he was, instead, a taco seller, he is villified by the literary salon's champion Francesca, who later warms up to him due to the belief that he is writing a novel, and against his will attempts to coach him based on her own background in literary criticism. In fact, literature and art appear often in the novel, but it is the ideas about them that proliferate through Villalobos' narrative, and even still in irreverent ways (Teo pounding cockroaches with his copy of Adorno's Aesthetic Theory, passages from which he also uses to befuddle telemarketers and Latter-Day Saint missionaries; Proust's In Search of Lost Time stamped with footprints and used for attempted dog-napping heists). This is a book that invites the reader to engage in the idea of the arts on whatever grounds, silly or serious, as the tongue-in-cheek tone allows both. Engaging and easily paced, this novel was a fun romp to read.